NOTES: Written for a friend's birthday. She requested a domestic discipline story, so be aware that this contains consensual spanking of an adult within a relationship. Unlike my usual father/son style stories, this is Peter/Neal slash, though not at all explicit (and there's no sex), in the context of a Peter/Neal/El relationship. If you don't like any of these things, you'll want to skip this story. No need to let me know ;)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own White Collar. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not making any money from this.

Falling, Safely

Neal's heart is racing.

It's ironic really, he thinks as he shuts his eyes, braces one hand against the wall and tries to slow his breathing. He was perfectly calm earlier. He wasn't nervous at all when he confronted the suspect, despite Peter's voice in his earpiece telling him to leave well enough alone. He wasn't even unduly concerned when the guy pulled a gun; he was confident in his own ability to talk down an inexperienced, nervous criminal like that.

And when the gun went off, when the shot missed him by less than he'd like to admit, he was too shocked to feel much of anything.

It was only when he looked up after the suspect had been taken down, and he saw Peter's face, pale and openly terrified and looking like he'd aged ten years in the space of a minute, that he really started to worry.

Somewhere in the tense, silent space of the drive back to the bureau, Peter's expression had changed from frightened to furious, and had stayed that way throughout the debriefing, throughout the journey back to the Burke's, right up until the point when he had deposited Neal in the corner of the main bedroom with a stinging slap to his ass that Neal can still feel the burn of minutes later.

Neal tries to swallow past the thick lump in his throat. All he can see is that look on Peter's face, and all he can hear is the lecture Peter gave him last time something like this happened, filled with promises that next time, if there was a next time, Neal would seriously regret putting his life in danger.

Seriously regret.

He rests his head between the bisecting walls in front of him and makes another attempt to settle himself down, but he's scared - unreasonably, illogically scared - and beneath the fear of pain there's a nagging thought that maybe Peter's too angry, maybe he's had enough, maybe he won't want Neal to stick around once this is done.

He's wound so tightly now that he nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears the floorboards creak behind him. He can't stop his body from tensing up, first with surprise and then with the sickening certainty that Peter's come to start his punishment. But to his surprise, Peter just slips his arms around Neal's waist and pulls him back against his chest, holding him tight.

'Hey,' Peter says softly, and Neal lets out a shaky breath that turns into a strange cross between a laugh and a sob. The relief that swims through him at Peter's gentle touch, at the sudden and obvious knowledge that of course Peter still loves him, makes him dizzy.

'Deep breaths,' Peter orders quietly into his ear and Neal nods, does his best to obey whilst Peter all but holds him up.

After a minute or so he has control of both his breathing and his heart rate at last, and he's steadier on his feet, but he leans back into Peter anyway, tipping his head back against Peter's shoulder, trying to get as much body contact as possible.

'What are you getting yourself so worked up over?' Peter asks. There's still an underlying strictness to his voice that lets Neal know he's by no means off the hook, even though Peter's arms remain firmly wrapped around Neal's middle.

Neal shrugs. It should be obvious anyway.

Peter presses a kiss onto the side of Neal's head. If a kiss can be stern, this one is. 'Answer me, please.'

Neal twists around in Peter's arms even though he's very aware he hasn't been told he can turn away from the corner. Peter doesn't stop him, so he buries his head in the older man's chest and mumbles his reply.

'You said, last time. This is going to be bad.'

Peter sighs into Neal's hair.

'Do you think it's going to be more than you can handle?' he asks after a moment.

It's not the response Neal's expecting, and he's surprised enough to look up and meet Peter's eyes for the first time in a long time.

'I –' he starts helplessly, and then stops as he works out what the obvious answer is. '…No. Of course not.'

Taking in the concern and the lack of anger in Peter's eyes, Neal realises that somewhere amongst the anxiety of the last few hours, he'd lost track of exactly why they do this thing they do.

Because Peter loves him.

And because, in what always seems like a different lifetime at times like this, Neal asked for it.

He drops his head back down into Peter's chest and breathes in deeply.

'I'm alright,' he says, grounding himself in the knowledge that Peter will give him as much as he needs, and no more than he can take.

'Come on then,' he hears Peter say. 'We'll get you taken care of, and then we'll have some dinner and El will be home before you know it to fuss over you.'

Neal feels a small smile tug at his lips at the thought of Elizabeth, who is sure to scold him too, but will follow it up with kisses and comfort food instead of the hiding he's about to get from Peter.

He lets Peter disentangle himself and lead him over to the bed. Peter's changed out of his suit and into sweats, as he does every time he needs to deal with Neal after work. Neal used to think it was because he didn't want his pants messed up by Neal's writhing around, but now he's aware that it's because Peter wants to show Neal that it's not his boss or his handler who's punishing him. It's just…Peter.

He lets Peter methodically strip him down to his undershirt and boxers, efficient fingers making fast work of zips and buttons whilst Neal simply stands and tries not to chew the inside of his lip. He lets himself be drawn in between Peter's legs, and stares down at his bare feet, the black of his anklet standing out stark against the cream carpet.

Peter gathers both of Neal's wrists in one strong hand.

'Look at me.'

Neal raises his eyes reluctantly, subconsciously twisting his hands in Peter's grasp, checking for weaknesses in the hold, for an escape route.

'You want to tell me why you're so determined to get yourself killed?' Peter asks, jaw tense, his grip staying firm.

'I'm not! I didn't think that…' Neal starts, and then remembers how white Peter's face had been when he'd come round the corner in time to see the shot fired and go wide. Only just wide enough.

'I just didn't think,' he finishes. He tries a smile that he doesn't feel. 'I bet you're gonna make sure I do next time though, right?'

Peter's lip quirks just a little and he shakes Neal's wrists softly. 'No saying my lines for me,' he admonishes lightly. He drops his voice. 'You have people that care about whether you get out of these situations alive. I want you to start acting like it.'

Neal has only a moment to wonder why Peter is so good at making him feel simultaneously very loved and sick with guilt. Then he's falling, safely, as Peter tugs him forward and over his left thigh. His chest hits the mattress with a soft thump and Peter re-gathers both of his wrists behind his back. Neal squirms a little, testing the position, making sure he's properly pinned down. He hates being trapped, but he needs it, knows he doesn't quite have the self-control to keep himself in place without thinking about a way out if Peter's not making absolutely sure he can't go anywhere.

'I've got you,' Peter reassures him quietly, and Neal settles.

Peter rests his hand on Neal's upturned bottom and he tries to brace himself.

'I don't want to keep having this exact discussion,' Peter tells him firmly, and then he brings his hand down with a loud crack. Neal can't help but gasp. He opens his mouth to ask Peter where his normal warm-up spanks are but the words dissolve under the onslaught of further smacks all across his ass and the tops of his thighs, and all he can do is whimper.

Peter's hand is relentless and the slaps are hard and fast, barely giving Neal time to register the sting of one before the next lights up a different part of his butt. By the time Peter stops for a brief respite, Neal's already a mass of aching, throbbing pain, and he's worn out from writhing in involuntary attempts to avoid the smacks. His breath is shuddering but it slows as Peter slips a hot hand underneath his t-shirt and start to rub small circles on Neal's back.

'I can't even tell you how scared I was today,' Peter says, and his voice is thick enough for Neal to realise he's not the only one trying to keep himself together.

'What would I have done if you'd been hurt?' Peter demands. 'How could I have come home and told El?'

Neal screws up his eyes against the threatening tears. The idea of Elizabeth hearing news like that makes him feel ill. He'd rather take more spanking than have to think about that.

'Peter,' he protests. 'Don't.'

'Don't what?' Peter asks roughly, though his hand is still tracing soft patterns under Neal's shirt. 'Don't worry about you? Don't worry about telling my wife I couldn't protect you? Don't nearly have a heart attack every time you do something reckless? Don't love you?'

Neal buries his head in the mattress, not able to deal with the words. He feels Peter ease down his boxers and run his hand across Neal's now-bare ass, and then the swats start again and bring with them choking sobs that build up in the back of his throat as the fire re-ignites. It seems like an age before Peter stops again, and by that point he's crying properly, tears soaking the bedspread underneath him.

It's probably the hardest hand spanking he's ever received and he's praying that that's it, that they're done, that this was what Peter meant when he said Neal would seriously regret putting himself in danger again. Then he feels Peter shift backwards a little, and realises that he's reaching for the pile of clothes that he stripped off Neal earlier. His stomach lurches.

'Nooo,' he protests, struggling. 'I don't want –'

'I know,' Peter says softly, squeezing his wrists. 'I know. But you need it.'

Neal shakes his head vehemently, quite sure that he doesn't need it, but seconds later he feels the cool leather of his own belt resting across his butt. Peter hardly ever uses the belt – hardly ever uses anything other than his hand in fact, and that's all he usually requires to get his point across. Neal's not really surprised that he's getting something harder today, but he feels the fear surge through him the way it always does, and twists his head round quickly, searching for reassurance.

He locks his eyes with Peter's, and the expression in them calms him instantly.

(Neal wonders sometimes, whether there's anything that Peter can't accomplish with a single look.)

He faces forward again, grits his teeth, and then jerks under the first lick of the belt. It comes down over and over, ripping a series of wordless exclamations from him and finally just a long, gasping cry, leaving him limp and exhausted over Peter's lap.

He's only vaguely aware of Peter putting the belt down and smoothing his hands up and down Neal's back and thighs and rubbing his ass softly, soothing away a little of the sharp sting and leaving a dull, hot ache in its place.

He's still crying quietly when Peter all but picks him up, righting him in his lap and pulling him close. There are fingers stroking through his hair and soft, sweet words in his ears and even though the pain still spikes through him every time he shifts position, he finds himself feeling better than he has in hours.

After what seems like a very long time, Peter nudges Neal's head up so they can look at each other.

'Alright?' he asks.

Neal nods shakily. 'Mmm. 'm sorry. I'll try not to do it again.' He wraps his arms tightly around Peter's neck. 'Forgive me?'

Peter smiles, probably less at Neal's question and more at Neal's unusually shy and young-sounding voice.

'Of course. I did hours ago. Just...try hard, okay?' He leans forward to press his lips to Neal's nose. 'You want to lie down for a bit?'

'Mmm.' Neal blushes under the sweet kiss and pushes his head closer for more. 'Stay with me?'

'Always.'

-END-

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